Shoot 'em Up
by Victoria Camrince
Summary: Some people take competition a little too seriously.
**A/N:** An apology fic, because chapter three of ad astra is getting longer by the minute.

* * *

I - _'take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. Then shoot me and walk away'_

* * *

Here's the thing: Lin Storm is a scary shot.

Dante knew how good he was with guns. He's a licensed detective, for crying out loud. Every shot he fires (literally, metaphorically, and figuratively) has a corresponding target and they land exactly where he wants them to land, every time. This is evident in the fact that he's the top marksman in their agency, and the top shooter in their group, according to the neon-lit scoreboard in the arcade (seven- his id number- next to the hits board which has a nine on it).

But when he heard the beep from the jacket worn by Montehue, who was shadowing him as his long-range lancer in this godforsaken laser tag game that they didn't expect to play this seriously, he immediately ducked down, looking around for any sign of the shooter.

Finding none, he turns his attention to the neon scoreboard. Eight hits, belonging to id number two- Lin's number. It's now the second-highest score, surpassing Montehue's (id number 10) and Zhalia's (id number 14) six hits.

This would not have been a problem, if Lin and Zhalia _weren't on the same team_.

"Damn it," Montehue says, the 30-second timeout on his jacket still counting down. "I can't see them anywhere in here."

"How do you even hide in this place," Dante absentmindedly mutters, referring to the neon-lit maze of the arena. Lin didn't notice him, apparently, but as soon as he stood up a laser hit his jacket, making it beep and triggering the timeout.

The scoreboard lit up, and number 14's score raises up to seven.

No mercies, then. "Well, shit." He looks around at the arcade, finding neither hair nor hide nor neon jacket of any of the girls.

"Regroup with the others?"

"Can't risk leading both of them to base."

Montehue grunts. "Sure. Tell me again, how did we end up having a group battle when this arcade has an individual scoring system?"

"Bragging rights," Dante reminded him while methodically checking his plastic pistol. "Bragging rights and dibs on the next place we go to."

They were having a get-together, a bi-annual thing that Lok initiated. Sandra Lambert suggested that they go to an amusement park, and under Lok's orders everybody had to go to the rides as a group.

As the night approached, half of the group voiced out that they wanted to go to the rollercoaster ride, and the other half said that they wanted to see the haunted mansion first. Seeing that the fight was about to get physical, Lin immediately suggests a group battle- which, in hindsight, is probably a bit unfair considering that she got to choose the arena. They've been playing for almost an hour now, with the winning group being the first to get 40 points.

Lin's team (haunted mansion) currently has 34 points, two points ahead of the rollercoaster team.

Montehue nods. His jacket has 23 seconds remaining, Dante's has 26.

"Let's split up. If either of us finds priority target Lin, we shoot and isolate her."

"That sounds like a line from a zombie thriller."

"Get going, Montehue. And find cover."

Dante runs throughout the maze, jumping over walls, going left then right. Behind him, the scoreboard lights up as number four (Lok) and number one (Sophie) get two shots each, raising their team score to two points ahead of the other team. _Good men_.

Of course, number eight's score turns from five to seven, making the playing field even. Clements' victory cry echoes throughout the room, drowning Loks 'oh come on!'.

He turns around a random corner, hiding from the others and waiting for his counter to drop to zero and smiles as he stumbles upon a hidden treasure.

Zhalia's at the dead end with her back turned to him. The top of her head is the only thing visible from the wall, where she holds her pistol like a sniper rifle. She's on her toes, arms leaning on the wall, hiding the neon light coming from her jacket.

 _Figures_ , he thinks. If Dante was on the other side of the wall, the relative darkness of the room (with shots of neon lights randomly scattered on the floor) would have hidden Zhalia from his passing view.

His jacket has eighteen seconds left. An idea forms in his head, and he walks quietly to where she was standing. Zhalia fires a shot, and Dante distantly hears Scarlett's shout of surprise across the room.

Keeping his pistol in his right hand, Dante sneaks his arms around Zhalia's waist. Feeling her tense up, he leans his head on her right shoulder and murmurs in her ear, "You must be the sniper that's been giving us hell."

The soft figure relaxes against his hold. "We do what is needed of us during war," Zhalia says, playing along. He feels the words echo through her body, low and rumbling even through their jackets. "And this, soldier, is war." She turns to him; and he notices that the dim neon lights did nothing to hide the golden flecks in her eyes and the smile hidden in the corners of her lips.

Dante can't help but kiss her then, Zhalia's lips soft and pliant against his. Kissing her never loses its novelty; the way that they press against each other, as though trying to convey each thought and emotion and want as silently as possible, always reminiscent of the first time. _Nine, eight, seven…_

(It was dark even then, in Zhalia's room. Everybody was tired after the war, most of all the two of them. Dante came into her room for reassurance and small talk, as he used to do. The floodgates of emotion burst open the moment the door was locked, and as their hands roamed over the other's body, hurried and longing and never wanting to let go, he thought _it's about damn time-_ )

He coaxes her mouth open, and they both moan, Zhalia's hands coming around his waist. He tries not to get lost in the taste of her. _Two, one._

Dante clicks the trigger in his right hand, and hears a sudden beep. Zhalia nips his bottom lip sharply before pulling back. He grins at her form, chest rising up and down to catch her breath, lips red. He probably looks the same.

But then Zhalia extracts herself from his grasp, and he sees that there is no timeout counter on her jacket. He looks down at his, and sees that _his_ countdown reset again.

Zhalia smiles even wider, pecks him and pats his cheek. "Didn't I tell you this was war?"

Dante just stares at her while she walks backwards, a hint of a smirk on her face that was gone in the next moment as her jacket beeps.

Surprised, she turns around and sees Harrison snicker. "It sure is!" He runs off, but Zhalia has the satisfaction of hearing a beep coming from his direction.

"We keep our backs _to the wall_ , Liza." Lin hisses from behind a wall, using her nickname for Zhalia. She nods, and remembers that Lin wouldn't see it from her hiding place.

"Got it, thanks for the save," she replies.

"We're both two points away from winning. Stay there."

Zhalia bites her lip, turning back to a slightly gaping Dante, still rooted to his spot.

"The game's about to end," she says conversationally.

Dante closes his mouth and looks at the flashing scoreboard which, after a wordless noise of rage and a soft 'fuck you' emanating from somewhere across the room, now shows an even 39 to both teams.

He really hopes their team would win, Montehue gets lost in haunted mansions easily and it'd be a long time before they can ride the rollercoaster. Zhalia walks towards him, and he tears his eyes away from the neon scoreboard.

"I think we should head back now," he says, slowly.

She shrugs, stopping in front of him. "I've still got," she glances down, "twenty five seconds."

"I've got twenty." They both smile. Dante pulls her flush to him, and leans in.

* * *

"Haunted mansion, here we go!" Den says, fist pumping the air. The losing team stands off to the side, Clements reassuring them that they'd head to the rollercoaster before dinner. Lin stands behind him, smugly throwing looks at a frowning Montehue.

Tersly pops up beside Clements. "Hey, have any of you guys seen Zhalia? The clerk says jacket number fourteen hasn't been returned."

"Zhalia's still inside?" Sophie asks incredulously.

"She said jacket number seven's still gone, too." Lok walks up to them from the front desk, holding two cotton candy cones. He hands one to his girlfriend.

Lin's eyes widen. "So that's why she got shot."

The older members of the group exchange uneasy looks, after a moment of silence. "Scarlett," they say in unison.

Scarlett raises her hands and takes a step back. "No way, I was the last one on Zhante rescue duty." And she thanks God that it would be a long time before it's her turn again, as she walked in on the two of them necking in one of the empty rooms in the Foundation HQ. While they were both fully clothed (well, mostly clothed. Dante discarded his coat and was about to lift Zhalia's shirt up) and didn't seem embarrassed at the time, Scarlett had to admit that the two were very beautiful people in a very compromising position- she quickly muttered a ' _Metzislookingforyoubothhe'swaitingupstairs_ ' and quickly went to the nearest ladies' room to wash her face. She still turns red just thinking about it.

Another look is exchanged. "Tersly," they said, turning to him.

Tersly stills, a deer in the headlights. "Can I pass?"

"We have rotation for a reason, Tersly. Go now, before they get past second base," Clements warns.

They watch as he hurriedly runs inside the building.

"Does it say something about them, or us, that we made up a rescue team specifically to keep them out of trouble in public places?" Lin asks. No one answers, except Den, who just shrugs. He just hopes they get out of there fast, the haunted mansion is waiting.


End file.
